Turning Lemons into Lemonade
by greenk
Summary: She knew the secret would have its repercussions when finally coming to light, but never in her wildest dreams did she think this would be one of them.
1. Chapter 1

Clearly, I'm crazy. Yes, I've decided to publish this story while I still have two unfinished projects sitting in my hard drive. What do I do when I get stuck? I write other things that don't get finished. It's a vicious cycle. But enough about my madness.

I've had this idea in my head for a while now. I know it's not going to happen this way on the show, but it's an approach to the Castle and Beckett relationship that I've never seen written, so of course, I couldn't resist sharing. Just in case you find it more confusing than I've anticipated, the large portions in italics are flashbacks. EDIT: I've added page breaks in between the flashbacks after finding that the italics weren't showing up on mobile . Hopefully, this makes things easier.

Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **Shut the front door.

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><p>She knew the secret would have its repercussions when finally coming to light, but never in her wildest dreams did she think this would be one of them. It's like the metaphorical plug had been pulled from the figurative dam. And now, she's drowning.<p>

He'd taken the news surprisingly well. She understood why; he'd had his suspicions for a while. She had expected the initial anger, the feeling of betrayal. But then, he'd made a resolution; he was going to turn her deceitful lemons into twisted, guilt-tripping lemonade. _Bastard_.

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><p><em>The morning after her confession was supposed to be filled with uncomfortable silences and awkward glances. She was prepared for discomfort and awkwardness. What she wasn't expecting is the mug of coffee sitting on her desk, bright and early, and the note attached to its handle.<em>

_She's hesitant at first, but the steaming liquid smells so good…_

_Mmm, it tastes good too. The sticky note is crinkled in her hand, but she doesn't want to read it just yet. For now, she's wondering when in the world he got up in order to beat her here. It's just past six in the morning and the precinct is slow moving. The boys aren't even in yet. Maybe they finished their paperwork the night before. Maybe they have better things to do in the early hours of the day before a body drops. She doesn't allow herself to dwell on her pitiful lack of a social life._

_When did he leave? The coffee is still warm. Or is he still here?_

_She can find out. She can read the note. Her heart says, "Don't do it. It's a trap," but her brain says, "Man up." She goes with her brain. The yellow note unfolds in her palm. His familiar scrawl brings an affectionate smile to her lips. _

_**Kate-**_

_**Make a record of it. April 17, 2012: The Day Richard Castle Beat His Workaholic Counterpart to the Precinct. I have a few things to take care of this morning, and that's why I couldn't stick around. It's just some boring, best-selling author stuff. **_

_She shakes her head. He'll never really change too much. The thought is as comforting as the cooling mug in her other hand. Still, she's surprised that the little letter is so genial given the recent occurrence. And she should probably be more hung up on the fact that he referred to her as her "counterpart," but she figures she owes him a little lenience after last night_

_**It's nothing too important though, so be sure to call me if a body drops. Wouldn't want to miss out on anything Beckett-flavored.**_

_Is that supposed to be a double entendre?__Because it feels like one; but maybe she's just reading into things…or going crazy from having parted on such odd terms the eve previous. He managed to fit a lot of writing onto such a small post-it. She continues._

_**Anyway, I hope you enjoy your coffee. Don't work too hard. Oh, and remember that eating is **__**not**__** an optional part of the day.**_

_Her breath catches in her throat, and she nearly drops her porcelain cup because the place on the note where his signature or a neatly initialed 'R.C.' normally would have been is filled up by something entirely different._

_**Love you.**_

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><p>And that was it. Fortunately, a body didn't drop, so she wasn't forced to see him and, in subsequence, strangle him. Or kiss him silly. It would have been one of the two. Unfortunately, a body didn't drop, so she was forced to stew over those three game-changing, no, <em>life<em>-changing words by herself for a little longer.

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><p><em>They get a call the next day in the early afternoon. It's a body between 3<em>_rd__ and Lex. Her thumb hovers over his name for thirty seconds before she chickens out and asks Esposito to give Castle a ring. He offers her a strange look in response, but doesn't ask questions. For that, she's grateful. Her boys know when not to pry._

_She drives in her Crown Vic behind Esposito and Ryan down to the scene with dread in her stomach. She never thought the day would come; a day that she would actually_ _be _scared _to see him. Nervous, sure. Hesitant, why not? But scared? No; she never expected such intense fear to ever be associated with the prospect of seeing him. At a _crime scene_, for God's sake. It was a mistake. She shouldn't have asked Espo to call. But it's too late to turn back now. _

_She gets out of her car, and her heart leaps into her throat. There he is, looking irresistible as always in a crisp, burgundy button down and a clean cut suit, leaning up against a squad car with that infuriating smirk on his face. Of course; he _would _beat them to the crime scene. Damn him._

_It takes all of her efforts not to jump back in the car and get the hell out of Dodge. _One step at a time, Kate. _She brushes past him and goes straight to the ME who's crouching over the vic. _

"_What've we got, Lanie?"_

"_This guy," she points down at the man splattered on the pavement as she stands, "fell down from up there." Her finger gestures up to the fragmented, fifth-story window of the apartment complex. "Dead instantly. Cervical fracture. Not to mention the fact that his skull probably hit the asphalt at roughly seventy miles an hour."_

"_Yikes," her partner hisses, joining the conversation. "Talk about a rough landing. No chance of suicide?"_

_She finds her voice in sarcasm. Yes, sarcasm is safe. "He crashed through a window, Castle. What do you think?"_

_He gives her a skeptical look. "Hey now, let's not jump to any conclusions. We don't have any proof that rules out suicide yet."_

_She's surprised that _he _of all people, the King of Conspiracy Theories, is considering the possibility of suicide. He's right about there not being enough proof, but she's in an arguing mood, and it's all his fault anyways, so she lets him have it. "There are a lot of easier ways to commit suicide. And besides, Mr. Observant, wouldn't it be simpler just to _open_ the window?"_

_He considers her words. "Touché. But that's not nearly as dramatic. Maybe he was craving attention."_

"_You would know all about that."_

_He's supposed to be getting pissed, but instead, it seems her thinly-veiled vexation is egging him on. "Beckett, Beckett, Beckett. You're forgetting something. There are easier ways to murder people. Why would a killer want to make such a scene? Maybe this guy was just tired of thinking things through, tired of being so careful all the time. Maybe he decided it was time to stop thinking and start acting."_

_Really? He's going to go about it that way? "Yeah? Well, maybe the killer didn't come up to the apartment with the intention of sending our victim hurtling through glass. Let's say he comes up with a Glock 19, trying to do things the old-fashioned way, but then our vic bolts. He runs toward window, they struggle, end of story."_

"_Well, why wouldn't he run to the fire escape instead? Why would he make such a silly mistake? Was he trying to get himself hurt?"_

_What the hell? That's it! She's had enough. "Well MAYBE, he was just _SCARED_, Castle_._"_

_Her breaths are coming out in little, ragged pants, and he's just looking at her with a level of smugness, but his eyes are weighed with regret that maybe he pushed her to close to the edge. _

"_What's gotten into you two?"_

_Both the detective and her partner recoil, suddenly remembering that they're not alone. Her response of a furious "Nothing!" is in unison with his more noncommittal "Nothing at all." She glares daggers at him, but he doesn't flinch._

"_Esposito!" her demanding bark has the ex-military detective at her side in seconds._

"_Yeah, boss?"_

"_What have we got on ID?"_

_She spends the next few minutes cooling down, going over information with Ryan and Esposito. The victim's name is Henry Walborn, thirty-seven-year-old attorney for a firm specializing in real estate and bankruptcy. He's recently divorced, and she makes a mental point to start the questionings with the ex-wife. _

_They're heading back to the precinct, and he's right at her heels. She turns, and he holds out the coffee in his hand like a peace offering. _

"_I'm going to, uh, catch a ride with the boys. Ryan's been bugging me about one month wedding anniversary ideas."_

_He's suspiciously fidgety, but she takes the coffee with a raised brow. "Okayyy."_

_He runs in the direction of the other two detectives with a shout of, "I call shotgun!" answered with the sound of Ryan's whines. She can't help but chuckle as she raises the drink to her lips, but then, something catches her eye. It's a flash of red that turns out to be a little heart sharpied on the lid followed by the letter 'U.' _

_He's just _mocking_ her now._

_She throws the cup in the nearest trashcan she can find._

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><p>Anyone could have seen that cup in his hand, and they would have suspected…what they've already suspected since forever. But that wasn't even the worst.<p>

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><p><em>The case turns out to be a quick close. One more day, and the killer is revealed as none other than the ex-wife's new boyfriend, suspicious that the divorcees had been reconciling behind his back. Once in interrogation, he folds like a deck of cards.<em>

"_Told you it wasn't suicide."_

_He looks at her with a gentle smile. "You were right. But either way, it's still a boring case."_

_She teases back. "What? A simple homicide isn't good enough for you now, Castle? There isn't always some sort of conspiracy. You'll have to start shadowing someone in the big leagues for that."_

"_And leave you high and dry? Never." He says it like a jest, but there's only seriousness in his eyes. She shivers at the sight._

"_So…" She clears her throat. "Got any plans tonight?"_

"_Not unless you're offering."_

_Is she offering? She knows what will happen if they go home together tonight. She won't be able to fight it any more than he will. And he's not even trying anymore. No, he's not fighting. More like, embracing. Is she ready for that? She hasn't even talked to Dr. Burke since…since she told Castle the truth._

"_I think I'm just going to go home and relax. I, uh, haven't really been able to sleep much lately. But maybe some other time."_

"_I'll hold you to that." _

_His eyes flash down to her lips. He tilts his head down and leans in. She begins to panic. Not here. He can't possibly kiss her_ _right here in the middle of the precinct for the whole world to see. He won't. Will he? As he nears, her eyes fall shut and…_

"_You smell nice."_

_He brushes her hair over her shoulder, trails a fingertip down her bicep, and then backs away. That's it? That's all he was doing? Smelling her hair? It shouldn't be such an alluring action, but she feels the prickles of temptation wash over her. Maybe she wanted him to kiss her instead of leaving her "high and dry" without even leaving at all. _

"_See you tomorrow," Castle says with a nod, and she dumbly nods back, feeling a little lightheaded. She should sit down. But before she does…_

"_Oh, and, Kate?" _

"_Hmm?"_

"_I love you." _

_There's such conviction in his eyes. Her mouth falls open in shock, but then he turns and keeps walking. He's in the elevator without looking back to catch her reaction, and then her partner is gone. She nearly falls backwards onto the corner of her desk, but reaches out to steady herself just in time. _

_What the _hell_? _

_Gates' door is closed, so there's no chance she overheard his proclamation, but the boys? The boys are looking just as flabbergasted as she feels, and she knows; they must have heard._

_Esposito recovers before Ryan who's starting to look a little like a deer in the headlights, staring at her like she's a giant eighteen-wheeler barreling his way._

"_Something you'd like to share with the class, Beckett?"_

_Her cheeks flame up, and she has the urge to whip out her gun and shoot him where he stands. But then, Ryan would be devastated. Probably would keel over right there. _Way_ too much paperwork._

"_I'm going to _kill_ him," is all she can manage._

_And suddenly, she has to leave. The air around her is closing in. She grabs her jacket and makes a dash for the door. The elevator is too slow; she'll take the stairs. Soon, she's in the parking garage, in her car, sniffling into her cellphone._

"_Lanie, you have to help me."_

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><p>Originally, this was going to just be a oneshot—I was going to wrap the story up nicely before the flashbacks started getting longer and out of control—but I'm really open to writing more. I have ideas for at least another chapter or two. But since I have other projects going on, I'll leave the decision up to you guys. More? Review and let me know. :)<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, Castle fandom. Welcome back. Before I get to any disclaimers, I just have one thing to say.

HOLY COW, YOU GUYS. I asked you to let me know if you wanted me to continue, but I was NOT expecting this kind of massive response. 31 reviews and 85 Story Alerts? I'm not used to getting that kind of response. Ever. I can't even wrap my head around it. I can't even begin to express my gratitude for the kind reviews. Is this what being FanficwriterGHC feels like?

That being said, I decided to continue this venture. Rather, I was compelled by all of your loveliness. And thankfully, inspiration followed. I apologize that this chapter didn't come sooner, but I couldn't really find the time to write, given that last week was midterm's week and all. Have we already established that I'm a crazy person? The fact that I started a new fanfic in the middle of midterms is mildly horrifying to me. My procrastination has finally reached a new level of atrocity. But I digress.

Just a couple more not-so-important things for those who are still reading this author's note: First, have italics always been excluded from the mobile site? Don't feel obligated to answer that. It's more of a rhetorical question. I never noticed it before, but now that I have, I've made some adjustments regarding the spacing of flashbacks. Hopefully, it still makes as much sense for those of you who use the mobile Fanfiction browser to read. I know I do.

Also, what has been going on with the site lately? I've noticed that many users have had to update several times or repost stories recently. I was a little hesitant to post this right now because of the problems I've seen others have in the past two days, but I'm just going to go for it and hope for the best.

As always, enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **_If only._

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><p>So calling Lanie first might not have been her best idea. But her friend was understanding, albeit a little pushy. Really, the ME didn't see the problem in her current situation, even after she tried to explain it time and time again. Why she couldn't jump in yet. Why she didn't understand what her partner was trying to do. Why she didn't know how anybody could possibly be any <em>more <em>infuriating.

Lanie just nodded, let herself be dragged to the crumbling detective's apartment, willingly shared a tub of New York Super Fudge Chunk while half-watching a cheesy, Hallmark channel movie. Kate let her stay the night after a stressful evening of binging and wallowing.

Mistake number one.

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><p><em>She wakes up in bed. She's not alone. Which is odd, you know, considering that she doesn't typically have anyone in her bed to wake up next to. She hasn't even been with anyone since Josh, and even when Josh was around, he never usually stuck around until morning. Never had the time, and neither did she.<em>

_In her disoriented state, she squints at the form under her covers. Dark skin, darker hair. Oh, thank God, it's just Lanie. Wait, Lanie? What is she doing…? Oh, right. Last night. Ice cream and talking and Castle…God, Lanie's going to want to talk about this, isn't she?_

_She sneaks out now, while she has the chance. If she gets ready fast enough, maybe she can get out before her friend even wakes up. She'll leave a note on the counter of course. Maybe pour a bowl of cereal too. Does she even have cereal that isn't as old as her new apartment? Minor details, no big deal. _

_She can skip the shower. Just a little freshening up will do just fine. She has a fresh pair of slacks and maybe even a good blazer in the dryer. A little ironing will take care of any lingering wrinkles. No need to try to make as little noise as possible re-entering her bedroom so as not to wake the ME, thus opening herself to a line of rapid fire advice. She was stupid and vulnerable last night, telling Lanie all of her petty sorrows. But it's a new day. Now, she's back to being Kate Beckett, the kick-ass homicide detective. The girl with the gun. No, scratch that. The _woman_._

_The ring of her doorbell interrupts the getaway musings. Who would possibly be here this early? She creeps over to the door, looks in the peephole, swings open the door…_

"_Delivery for Kate Beckett."_

"_Yes, this is she. But you must be mistaken. I didn't order anything."_

_The man takes a look at his clipboard. "Nope, it says right here: sent from Mr. Richard Castle to a Detective Kate Beckett. No mistake."_

_Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. But curiosity gets the best of her, and she concedes. "Well, is there anything I have to pay for or, um, sign?"_

"_No, ma'am. Everything's been taken care of." He hands her the long, white box and smiles. "You have a nice day then."_

_She shuts the door, pausing a moment before running over to her couch and dropping down onto the cushions, tearing the lid off and folding back the paper. She lets out a little gasp. Lying inside are a dozen neatly cut, yellow daffodils sheathed in green tissue. She was expecting…what was she expecting? Roses or some kind of extravagant outfit attached to some sort of invitation. But these…these are perfect. Or rather, they would be perfect if she hadn't spent the entire night previous cursing the man that they were sent from. _

_They're too pretty to just throw away like a Styrofoam cup of coffee. She stands to find them a vase to find she has an audience._

"_Kaaate."_

"_Shut up, Lanie."_

_The curvy woman raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "You gonna come over here and make me?"_

_Kate huffs past her friend with flowers in her grasp, walks into the kitchen and pulls out a large, crystal pitcher from the cabinet. She holds it over the sinks, running the tap, and unwraps the flowers, dipping their delicate stems into the water. Do daffodils have a specific temperature requirement? _

"_Kate," Lanie tries again. "He got you flowers." She stoops to pick something off the floor as if it were just another day and she were just bending to collect evidence from the crime scene for the detective. "And a note. Oh Kate, baby, I don't understand what your deal is! If you don't get it on with the writer man soon, I'm gonna have to smack you."_

_The detective reaches for the card in the ME's hand, snatches it up, and flips it over. She lets out a groan._

_**Good morning, Detective. I love you.**_

"_Girl, what are you moaning and groaning about? Your man's like something out of a John Hughes movie."_

_She sighs. "Lanie, I'm not a teenager anymore. It's not that easy."_

"_And why the hell not?"_

_Great. Last night, at least Lanie was sympathetic, but since her partner decided to make a grand gesture this morning, she's completely lost her best friend's support. "Whose side are you on?"_

_The woman's too good to fall for that one. She doesn't have to utter a word. Her look of disappointment speaks volumes._

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><p>After Lanie went home to change for work, Kate changed her plans and spent the next hour submerged in a bathtub filled to the brim with bubbles and scented with lavender. No reading was necessary, just a good, long soak. Her muscles slowly uncurled from their tense state.<p>

If only soapy water worked on emotional tension as much as it did physical.

Once she was out of the lukewarm suds, she dressed at a leisurely pace, took a little extra time to dry and curl her hair, and actually made herself breakfast for a change; it might have only been a slice of toast with the remaining swirls of peanut butter at the bottom of the jar, but it was breakfast nonetheless. So, needless to say, she ended up coming into to work a little later than usual.

Mistake number two.

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><p><em>If her heart leapt into her throat yesterday, it's now past her throat, out of her mouth, and skidding across the precinct floor, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.<em>

_She doesn't see Castle yet, but it's obvious that he's already here. Her tardiness has given him ample time to accomplish an obviously well-thought-out plan. She opens every drawer of her desk in a frenzy. Her bowl of Skittles has been swapped for a jar of Hershey's kisses. Her yellow sticky notes are stripped from the pad, replaced with pink, heart-shaped post-its. But the old papers aren't gone; instead, they're distributed throughout the filing cabinets, stuck to random objects. Every one of them has a little tidbit scrawled across._

_**I love the way you chew on the lid of your Expo marker when you get caught up in thought.**_

_**I love it when you secretly read new case notes to our suspects off your clipboard like you already have them memorized.**_

_**I love your collection of elephants, even though it is a little borderline OCD.**_

_He's scaring her. Shouldn't he know by now that overwhelming Kate Beckett just results in her bolting away, shutting down, and closing off? A part of her, a part deep inside that sounds suspiciously like Lanie, tries to tell her that this is a good kind of fear, that it's a healthy dose. But she doesn't have time to sit here and listen to that nagging little voice. Fight or flight responses are kicking in. She's not sure which one is dominating until she's at the break room doorframe, interrupting a conversation amongst Ryan, Esposito, and the man who she's tempted to kill at this point and make it look like an accident._

"_Out."_

_All three of them move at once, scuttling through the doorway in terror. First Esposito, followed by Ryan. She stops Castle with a hand to his chest._

"_Not _you_."_

_The other boys look back to see their friend trapped. Ryan grants him a cheeky little wave, and Esposito clenches his fist as if to say 'stay strong, bro.' Kate nearly rolls her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. Her emotions are tumbling so fast, she doesn't have time for the embarrassment that should have accompanied seeing her boys again after yesterday afternoon's fiasco._

_Castle gives her a look. He's waiting for her to start. Isn't he always waiting for her?_

"_Why?"_

_It's a loaded question, but he's prepared to answer. He's probably been preparing himself for the last few days. _

"_Okay, the desk thing was a little creepy, I admit, but you already know that I'm creepy with the staring thing. Why try to hide it?" It's accompanied with a little grin that has her boiling inside._

"_I'm not just talking about my desk, and you know it. But if creepy was what you were going for, then congratulations. You've far surpassed my expectations in that department."_

_His grin only expands. "Well then, Detective, what are you talking about?"_

_She runs a hand through her hair in frustration, fingers tangling through messy curls. "You're going to make me spell it out for you? Everything, Castle. Why, everything? Why all of this? You should be angry at me, ignoring my apologetic phone calls, running off to the Hamptons with your ex-wives; I don't know what else, but it isn't this, so, why?"_

"_You want me to be angry at you?" His grin is gone, traded for an expression weighted with the seriousness in his voice. When she can't find her own to respond, he continues, "You want me to ignore your phone calls? Clearly, you seem to have been able to block out all that we've gone through in the past four years; all the progress we've made individually, together. Beckett, listen to me when I say this: I'm not running anymore. Not now and not ever again."_

_She takes a deep breath to steady herself. "Right. Running is my job. I forgot."_

_Castle softens at that. "Kate, that's not what I meant. _Kate_."_

"_I know." She lets go of the sigh that was building in her ribcage. "I know you didn't mean that. I'm just…I'm trying to understand, Castle. I mean, you should at least be upset with me. I'm giving you permission, here. I'd completely understand anger right now or hurt. I would never fault you for it. I deserve it." And then, "Is that what you're trying to do then? You're trying to punish me?"_

_He's back to teasing her. "I wouldn't put it like that, per se…"_

"_You're trying to drive me absolutely insane."_

_His eyes twinkle with mirth. "Is it working?"_

_She scoffs, moves toward the door which probably should have been shut at the beginning of their conversation that half the homicide department probably just caught wind of. This time, it's _his _arm in the doorway that's blocking _her _escape. She goes to duck it._

"_Hey, now, that was just a joke. Kate, I was just kidding."_

_She turns back around to face him, eyebrow raised in question. "You still haven't answered. You're using avoidance tactics."_

"_You would know."_

"_Excuse me?"_

_He chokes on air, spluttering, "S-since you're, you're a cop. You would know about avoidance techniques because you interrogate people who use them. God, Kate, are you going to turn around everything I say?"_

_It's her turn to smirk now. "Still avoiding."_

"_You really want to know?" At this, she tilts her head forward, waiting for a response. His brow furrows in concentration, trying to pick out the best words to explain; she knows because she's seen the expression so many times before. "I was hurt, Kate. Very hurt and a little angry too."_

_Okay, then. That still doesn't explain…"Then what is all of this, Castle?"_

_He offers her a sad, little smile. "Silver lining?"_

"_Silver lining," she repeats dumbly._

_He expands, "My way of coping, maybe. Finding the best in a bleak situation."_

"_A silver lining." Again? What is wrong with her? Is her voice box stuck or something? Is her brain on the fritz, skipping like a broken record?_

"_You said you could use one, you know, before. Remember?"_

_She remembers. _

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><p>There was no body that day. He left to go home early without much more than a wave. She felt something curling inside of her. Disappointment? Is that what it was? No, couldn't be. Could it?<p>

She finished the paperwork for the Walborn case and packed up her bag. The sticky notes on her various office supplies remained mostly untouched, unmoved. For now.

Kate debated taking a little detour to see Lanie in the morgue, but decided against it. She hadn't exactly been too amiable with her best friend this morning. Maybe they just needed some mutual space to regroup, laugh it off, act like nothing ever happened. Her friend didn't have a great track record when it came to easy forgiveness, but maybe this time she'd make a pitiful exception.

Instead, the detective hopped in her car and drove home in silence. Well, moderate silence. It _was_ the city after all. She rode the elevator up to her apartment and unlocked the door.

It turns out that her third mistake is one she made a while ago.

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><p><em>She has her coat in the closet, and her shoes are off, sprawled in the entryway, before she notices. Her daffodils are sitting in the middle of her counter space, definitely not where she left them. Oh God, she never took back that key she lent him when they were in joint custody of Royal, did she? He's been in her apartment. The nerve of that man.<em>

_Perched next to the vase is a green packet of some kind of flower preservative with instructions on the back. Stuck to the crystal is another one of her sticky notes. Ridiculous._

_**Daffodils symbolize rebirth, new beginnings, and unrequited love. Some say they symbolize vigilance because they always come back the following year. Others think daffodils say "you're the only one." I thought they were appropriate, regardless of which symbol you choose to believe.**_

_Of course. He would have an extensive knowledge of flowers and symbolism. She shudders. (_You're the only one).

_She suddenly gets a whiff of something, and it smells delicious. Is that coming from her oven? She opens the doors and is assaulted with the aroma. A cardboard pizza box is sitting on the rack, still warm from the insulated oven. She lifts the lid. Golden brown cheese littered with green peppers and black olives. The detective has to stifle a moan. When's the last time she even saw a pizza, fresh from the oven? The fact the label boasts neither 'authentic' nor 'terrific' is just a bonus._

_She should be more furious that he entered the apartment without her explicit permission, but the fact that he's providing dinner for her and beautiful flowers is clouding her judgment. She should be calling him up right now, informing him that she 'can remember to feed myself, thank you very much,' but something's stopping her. He's wearing her down already. That should bother her more as well. She can't let him know. He can't think he's winning this battle just yet. She's stubborn. She still needs time, time to sort through her feelings and time to talk with Dr. Burke. _

_That Castle is doing all of this crazy stuff is maddening, but…sweet too? "Who are you and what have you done with Kate Beckett?" she mumbles to herself, sliding the box out of the oven, setting it on her dining table, procuring a plate and a jar of hot seeds from the cabinet. _

_How can she go from utterly disgusted to compliant in such a short time? It's seriously grating on her pride. He's just so thoughtful and that's what she l-_

_The revelation stops her, mid-bite. Oh shit. _

_She loves him back._

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><p>That's all for now, but I still have another chapter or two up my sleeve. I think it's about time to see what's happening on Castle's side of the spectrum, don't you?<p>

Click the little button below to let me know what you thought of the second installment of Turning Lemons into Lemonade, and stay tuned for more. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Hello again! It's been far too long, I know. I hate me too. But after this ridiculous, month-long waiting period, I bring you installment three of Turning Lemons into Lemonade. It's a little longer than my usual chapters if that eases the sting of my transgressions.

Forgive me?

**Disclaimer: "**Isn't it obvious? I mean, am I the only one seeing this?"

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><p>He's up early again. With the flick of his thumb, he sends the text message and pictures the look on her face when she opens it. Flashes of surprise, confusion, disgust?<p>

_I love you._

His life has really always been a sequence of one risky choice after another. Becoming a writer, eloping with Meredith, allowing his mother to forcibly move her way into his loft, killing off Derrick Storm, going behind an angry detective's back in order to secure a place at her side. Just a few examples with results that vary from fantastic to dreadful. But this might just be the riskiest decision he's ever made. Because this could be it. One wrong step. It could make or break them.

He could lose everything.

But he's been ready to dive in since the day he met her. Maybe his reasons were more shallow back then, but the feelings have since developed and grown and expanded and matured, increasing in intensity all the while until he just couldn't take the waiting game anymore. Her confession, her moment of weakness; it gave him a window of opportunity. After so many trying years of steady patience growing stale, he just couldn't pass up the chance to get a taste of the fresh air, the relief.

_I love _you_. _

The truth's out in the open now. Nothing to hide anymore. He might be a lot of things, but subtle isn't one of them. He blames his mother for that. _Ah, speak of the devil…_

"Richard, darling, whatever are you doing up so early?"

…_and she doth appear._ "I could be asking you the same question. Isn't it a little early for the walk of shame?"

She shuts the front door and does a little dip of a curtsy for show. "Never too early. But that, my boy, is called avoiding the question. So go on. Martha Rodgers, Life Coach, is at your service."

Avoiding the question? Wait, what? "Have you been talking to Beckett?"

The red-head raises her aquamarine-gloved fingers in an expression of innocence. "Not recently, but darling, is this a…" She gestures at him, waving her hand from his head to his toe. "…Beckett issue?"

He sighs, turns his head away and hits the button on his phone to send it to sleep before his nosy mother can sneak a peek. After all these years, he's still so transparent.

"I warned you about this, Richard."

He chooses to feign ignorance. "This?"

She frowns at him as if to say 'Come on. You can do better than that. Really, Richard. Have I taught you nothing?' Her arms fold across her chest like a vice of disapproval. "This crazy idea of yours. It might take her a while to see reason."

"I don't…" He pauses, searching. She knows, of course. He told her right away. And she did warn him about it, even though she's been pushing him to just 'Kiss the girl while you're both still young' since day one. "I don't know what else to do."

"Mmm," she exhales thoughtfully, sympathetically. "I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into, kiddo."

Yeah, he does too.

* * *

><p>When he arrives at the precinct, he can tell that she's already come in. Files are strewn across her desk in a relatively organized fashion…for piles of papers scattered everywhere. Another two, certain detectives are already there as well, and they give him matching leers as he strolls through. He blatantly ignores them.<p>

He doesn't have coffee with him today—his safety net, his go-to beverage—because they don't have a body, and she's probably not expecting him. He just didn't remember to stop in his haste to see her.

Another risky decision to add to his mile-long chain.

She isn't in her chair, and she isn't in Gates' office—he knows; the woman gave him an icy stare as he peeked through the blinds, cold enough to freeze the fires of hell—so he decides to check the break room, and there she is, fiddling with the espresso machine, trying to brew a cup that's currently overflowing with foam. He sneaks up behind her as steam shoots out the machine, eliciting a mumbled curse from the detective, and leans dangerously into her personal space bubble, mouth at her ear.

"Need some help with that?"

Her cup clatters loudly as she drops it on the metal grate, and she flips around in an instant. Mistake on her part; her nose is centimeters from his. She sucks in a gasp, pupils widening, head craning almost imperceptibly toward his…

"Hey, Beckett, Gates want to see you…in her…uh, sorry. Interrupting?" It's Esposito, hanging on the doorframe, and Castle has half a mind to march over there and pound his face in.

Kate jumps, catches herself, pushes off his shoulder and out of his reach. "Nope. Not at all." She struts past the Latino detective, heels hitting the wood rhythmically.

"Look, bro, I'm sorry-" the other man starts, apologetically.

"No, it's fine. _Really_. But let me tell you, you are _sooo_ out of my will." It's his turn to blow past the detective who's still posed at the door, but then Esposito jumps back into action, jogging to catch up to him.

"What? Really? I was in your will?" Castle sits in his chair beside his partner's desk. No response. _Take that, Javier._ "Come on, man."

"Nope. It's settled. I've decided. The yacht is definitely going to Ryan."

Upon hearing his name, Ryan approaches, wearing his trademark, goofy-puppy expression that matches his goofy, patterned tie. A gift from Jenny, no doubt. Poor guy. "What about me?"

"When Castle here kicks the bucket, you and Jenny are going to be the proud owners of a yacht." Esposito turns from his partner to address the writer, "Not cool, bro."

The younger man's eyes light up. "Seriously? You have a yacht?"

"Modestly sized, but yes, I do."

"Awesome. I mean, not the kicking the bucket part, just the yacht stuff. But you know, I've heard rumors that Jenny's uncle used to be a hit man on the side. Maybe a trip out on the ocean would convince him to come out of retirement."

Really? That's how much he means to them? Nice. "That's how much my friendship means to you guys? I can always rescind the offer."

Ryan's face falls a few stories, so the burly detective flips the conversation back to himself. "All right, fine. Kev gets the yacht. But can I at least have the Ferrari?"

He smiles at that. "Sorry, that one's off the market too. I already know where she's going."

"Yeah? Where?"

"Why, to Beckett, of course!"

"What about me?" Kate says, rounding the desk and dropping into her swivel chair with a puff of air. The movement's still elegant in a way that only she could ever pull off. He marvels at her natural grace and…

"…about what Castle's giving away in his will." He catches the end of Esposito's answer before the man goes back to whatever he'd been doing before the author had showed, Ryan in tow.

"Oh yeah? What am I going to get?"

He's torn between elatedness from making her grin and offense for her sounding so excited about it. "Really, Beckett? You too? You've all just been laughing at my jokes all these years to get in my will?"

"Don't be silly, Castle." Her eyes gleam with merriment. "Nobody laughs at your jokes."

He musters a glare, but it's difficult to do considering his heart is fluttering with joy. She's teasing him again. It's a start. "My Ferrari."

"Shooting you looks more and more promising every day."

"Don't let that inflate your ego too much." She raises an eyebrow at him, and the expression says it all. 'Really, Castle? My ego?' He realizes the absurdity of the statement, but continues. "Everyone's getting something to remember me when I'm gone. Even Gates."

"_Really_. And what might she be getting?"

He looks from side to side as if he worries that someone might overhear and leans in closer.

"My head. On a spike."

Rick rejoices when she lets out a one-note laugh, eyes scrunched in amusement.

"So no open casket funeral then?"

"Why do you ask, Beckett?" He wiggles his eyebrows. "Would you want to give me a hug goodbye?"

Her eyes flash down to his lips, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. Air in, air out. _God, Rick, get a grip. _

"Maybe. Something like that."

Holy Christ. He clenches his hands in the fabric of his dark jeans to stop himself from grabbing her face, from mauling her right here and now. He has to change the subject, regain his footing, stop himself from doing something stupid. But then she starts speaking again before he gets the chance.

"I wouldn't really have to miss you too much. I'd probably be able to see you as often as I want."

What is she talking about? Wait, what were they talking about?

"You know…" She grabs his ear and gives it a little, playful tug. "…after Gates mounts this on her office wall."

Oh good. Tension relieved. Back to just joking around in the workplace where she definitely does _not_ want him to try to "get it on." Now not, not ever. Especially not now. He laughs, and she chuckles back.

"See," he says before really thinking, "Nothing has to change."

Her smile falls. "Castle…"

_No, don't apologize. Stick to the plan_. "Just because of how I feel about you…it doesn't mean that things have to change. We're still…" He motions between them. "…us."

Her hands thread through her hair, and her head swivels on her neck. He'd like those to be his hands someday—brushing through her hair when she's in his bed, when she gets out of the shower, when she's sprawled out on his lap or on his couch or anywhere really. Someday.

"I don't know if I can believe that the way you do, Castle. Things happen. People change."

"Bull."

Sometimes he thinks her glare is almost as beautiful as her smile. In a different way, of course, but he's come to love them both. Her eyes get narrower and her lips purse together. He wants to kiss those lips. He wants to taste her, glaring. Beautiful.

"People fight."

He agrees. "They do. _We _do. But we always make it through to the other side." _Together, Kate. We make it through to the other side together. _"We've weathered the tides before. No relationship is smooth sailing."

Her jaw tenses; it's at the word he thinks. _Relationship_. "I've been in smooth ones, and yet, they still haven't lasted. And here I am."

_Yes_. "Here you are. But if they were so easy, then they couldn't have been real relationships."

She shrugs. "Semantics."

Her knowledge of literary terms. Another thing he loves about her. It's why they work so well together. She plays off of him, and he plays off of her. They're a pair, a perfect match mentally and intellectually. Her sense of humor suits his well.

"You know I love it when you talk dirty."

She rolls her eyes. "You're such a writer." And then. "What about your ex-wives. What about Kyra?" Her voice dips to a whisper, "What about _Lanie_ and _Esposito_? I've seen numerous couples crash and burn. You can't tell me that doesn't scare you."

She has to bring up his failed relationships, doesn't she? "So I don't have the greatest performance history. In my defense, two of those should never have happened. Not that I really regret that they did. I mean, Alexis is worth every miserable second of my time with Meredith. And Kyra? We were both so young at the time."

"You loved her."

Did he though? "I thought I did. But her parents, well, they didn't care for me much at all, and that's putting it lightly. They pressured her, and she…she left me one day. I lost my faith in the concept, you know, of loving somebody…of two people just being so right for each other that nothing else mattered. So I fell from romantic tryst to romantic tryst. Found some things that resembled what I felt before. Eventually, I adjusted to the idea that people didn't really have to have that perfect connection to be able to live and work together. But then, everything changed again. For the better, this time."

"What happened?"

Does she really not know? Her face…it looks sincere enough. How could she be so oblivious?

"You," he answers candidly. "You happened."

"Ugh," she groans at him, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're awful."

He holds his hands up in defense. "What? It's the truth. I was just an immature shell of myself back then, and then I met you; a smart, sassy, badass cop who didn't take any of my crap."

A sigh, weighed with sadness and frustration. "What exactly do you want from me, Castle?"

Honesty again. He goes with honesty. _It's the best policy, right?_ "I think you know what I want, Kate."

"And you aren't worried at all that I might not feel the same way? That I might not want what you do?"

"Should I be?"

She slumps over, pulls her lower lip between her teeth, turns away from him. Her hand reaches for a pen on the desk. Discussion over, closed. But she doesn't get to decide this time. He's been ready to push for years, and so he's going to push, damn it.

"Come on, Kate, you've been brushing me off for days. Don't make the effort and then just start ignoring me again." He liked her better angry, searching for an understanding. Anything is better than closed off Beckett. What did he do to make her so hesitant all of a sudden?

She flinches but doesn't turn around to face him again. Her voice is shaky, "I just can't right now, Rick, okay? I can't just go on like everything's normal because it's not."

Oh, great. He's upset her. _Way to go, man. _Time to surrender. "Listen, if you don't…if you don't feel the same way, I won't leave you. If that's what you're worried about, then don't be. I just might need some time to..."

"To what?" She turns her head.

He meets her eyes. "To move on."

"Is that what you want?" her voice breaks. "To move on?"

Kate Beckett; she's a woman of countless contradictions. An enigma. He'll never fully understand her. Hell, maybe he hasn't even begun to understand. Casting him away, reeling him back in. "I feel like you're sending me…" Her eyes burn into his as he speaks. Ire and woe, intermingling. "…mixed signals."

A scoff is her only response.

"I don't even know if it would be possible, Kate, but I'd try for you. I just…I want you to be happy." His voice dips lower so as not to attract certain attention, "And as for Esposito and Lanie, well, I thought we already discussed the matter." Right before they were knocked out and dragged away. He can see her replaying the conversation in her mind.

"I just, I need more time. I need to think things through."

"I can give you time. As much as you want, within the realm of possibility. I can wait for you, Kate, but I don't want to hide anything anymore. If you decide you don't…" He doesn't even know how to finish the thought. He can't comprehend a timeline, world, universe where they don't find their way to each other. Eventually. "In all honesty, I don't think I'd be able to pull myself away, Kate. Even if you wanted me to, even if you begged. Even if you got married and had kids, even if it killed me." _I can't remember how to live without you._

She can read between the lines just fine. Better than fine. She can read between the lines like a pro. And now she's looking at him like he just socked her in the stomach; her face is torn between shock and pain. All right, he's done for now. He can't continue to pressure her like this when she's staring at him like that. He'll change the subject. He'll toss her a lifeline. He'll try again later. Later.

"So what did Gates want?"

"Excuse me?"

She still floundering, but he keeps his cool. _It's okay, Kate_. "Why did Gates call you to her office?"

He watches as his partner gives her head a quick shake, snaps out of her disbelief, focuses on his question. "Uh, Gates? She wanted to, um, commend our team for the good close yesterday."

_Our team_. Pride and love blooms inside of him. He lets the happiness surface to his eyes, spread to his lips, turn into amusement. "Have we recently entered the twilight zone, and I just didn't realize?"

She hums in agreement, not quite a laugh, but close enough. "I know right? It was odd. Scary, almost. I've never seen her in such a good mood."

They settle back into a more comfortable silence. She relaxes into her paperwork, and he spends the next two hours a mute, playing Angry Birds in an attempt to ease his festering boredom.

"You can go home, you know." Oh, she's talking to him again? "I can tell you're bored, Castle. I can practically feel it radiating off you." She regards him with a gentle smile. "Go home. The precinct will still be here when you get back."

He relents, collects his legal notepad from the drawer in her desk that he's taken to storing it in. Maybe he'll actually put his notes to use and get some writing done tonight. He pauses as his gaze passes over a pile of Post-Its stacked in the corner of the drawer. _His_ Post-Its. They're detached from their corresponding objects, but still there. She kept them. His heart flips.

"You'll call me if we get a case?"

She doesn't want to lie to him; she can't lie to him again. He can see it in her eyes. She doesn't vocalize it, but he knows. She won't call him tomorrow. Her pupils project apologies and regret. She needs time to regroup, or else she'll just keep ignoring him because it's easier that way. He understands, but it still hurts.

They'll take a few days apart. Fine. That doesn't mean he'll let her forget.

"Kate." She averts her eyes. He's hopelessly, pathetically smitten, so he doesn't fault her for it. He'd be embarrassed, but really, he can't help it. "I love you."

She turns back, and her eyes are sheened with things unspoken. "I know."

She knows. So he goes home. He plots his next move.

* * *

><p>Three days later, he's standing with a pizza box balanced over his forearm, knocking on her door. Tomorrow is her day off, so he grasps the neck of a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape in a closed fist. She can't pretend she's not home. He can hear the sound of her microwave humming from outside her apartment. <em>No need to resort to the Styrofoam temple, Kate Beckett. The cavalry has arrived.<em>

The door swings open. She's donned in an oversized, pinstriped Yankees jersey and navy yoga pants, and her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail. And he doesn't think she's ever looked so cute. Her eyes flicker from the box, to his bottle in his hand, and then to meet his own.

"Hey." She seems almost frightened by his unannounced visit, but moves aside to let him in.

"Hey." He walks to the kitchen island, sets the pizza and wine down on her stovetop, turns around to find her looking at him in confusion. _What's to be confused about, Kate?_

"What are you…doing here?"

"Tomorrow's your day off; the Yankees are playing the Mets. It's been a long work week, I'm sure, and now you have some time to decompress. What's a better way to decompress than with a 2000 Chateauneuf du Pape?"

She settles a little, sighs, purses her lips in the coy way that she does when she's trying hard not to grin. "I think I remember you saying something of the sort."

"Ah, yes. But as I recall, you were too _tired_ to partake. And then you threatened me with your gun." She makes a sound of amusement from deep in her throat. He puts on his best pleading face, eyes wide. "Come on, Kate. I've missed you. Eat with me."

She rolls her eyes as if annoyed by his offer, but the smile gives her away. "Pizza again, Castle? Really? Are you trying to fatten me up?"

That's a 'yes' if he's ever heard one. The steaming box gets moved to the dining table along with the bottle. "Pizza is an important part of the five major food groups, Beckett. Everybody knows that."

"Mmm, right. Must have forgotten. I'll admit, though, it's a hell of a lot better than the week-old chow mein waiting for me in the kitchen. And it smells…God, is that pepperoni?"

He can feel himself vibrate with excitement. "That's not even the best part. Open it up."

She seems skeptical at his eagerness, but pulls up the lid, peeks in, give a short chortle—he thinks it's from surprise more than delight. "You know, Lanie was right, Rick. You really _are_ something out of a John Hughes movie."

His sides tremor from laughter, and she just shakes her head. The slices of pepperoni are clustered in the middle of the cheese, arranged into a big, greasy heart. She picks a piece off, crunches into it in satisfaction. He watches, mesmerized, as her esophagus constricts, silky skin sliding over vertebrae.

"A John Hughes movie, huh? That's an idea. You want to eat on the table?"

She bites her lip to hide her grin, failing miserably.

They do.

* * *

><p>It's late by the time he gets home. He locks up, checks on Alexis, and changes into more comfortable clothes before grabbing a blanket and snuggling up on the couch in front of the TV. His phone give a quick vibrate on the coffee table. A text. But no, it continues over and over, jolting across the glass top of the table with every buzz. Someone's calling him. He reaches for the device, nearly falling off of the cushions and onto the floor in the process. <em>Kate<em>. Kate's calling him.

"Castle." He answers his phone as if it's just a regular day, and she's just calling him about a body on 1st Avenue. As if he hadn't just spent five hours with her, watching baseball and cracking up over brimming glasses of wine.

He'd let her choose the pace. Their conversations didn't stray into any remotely serious territory. But that was okay with him. For now. Anything to get her to ease up around him again. She'd been so withdrawn in the last two weeks for reasons unbeknownst to him. It was such a polar opposite to the rumbling fury she'd subjected him to in the first week or so after he'd learned the truth and put his plan into action.

But tonight she was…things were normal again. For the most part.

"Hey." She takes a long pause. "I'm sorry, it's late. You're probably getting into bed. I'm not even really sure why I called."

He interrupts her anxious rambling. "Relax, Kate. I'm just watching a movie. Wasn't quite ready to hit the hay yet."

"Oh. Well then." He can hear her hard swallow over the line. "I guess I just wanted to…thank you. You know, for tonight. I think I needed that."

She's allowing herself to be vulnerable, something she doesn't do often enough. Opening up to him. _Don't screw this up. _"Anytime. It was nice." _Nice? Really, Rick? You're a best-selling author, and all you can come up with is 'nice?' Idiot. _"Did you find what I left you? In the refrigerator."

He'd managed to slip a little container of marble cheesecake into her apartment without her noticing, hoping she'd discover it after he left.

She giggles, actually _giggles_ into the phone. He can die a happy man now. Truly. "I did. Homemade?"

"Yeah, yeah. New recipe. Did you like it?"

When she answers, her tone is low, serious, "I _loved_ it."

Perhaps she's not even aware of the intensity in her voice, the subtext in her statement. Maybe she's not trying to insinuate anything at all. But he takes her connotations, inadvertent as they may be, and stores them deep into the foundation of his being.

_I love you._

* * *

><p>Thanks for being patient with me. You are all truly amazing. And as always, thank you for reading. Click the little button below to let me know what you thought, and hang tight for more. :)<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

There must be some sort of rule in the universe that only allows me to update stories once every month. Or I'm just a terrible person. Whichever the reason, please accept my apologies. I don't ever expect to reach the level of massive awesomeness of people like chezchuckles, updating multiple stories daily, but jeez; I really am bad at this. And you all have been extremely amazing and supportive, so I'm sorry guys. Really and truly.

This chapter proved to be particularly challenging for me, but I had a breakthrough this weekend and finally finished not only this chapter, but also a little oneshot that I hope to post tomorrow if I get the final edits done tonight. ;)

Yes, this is the final chapter. I hadn't really planned for the fourth installment to be the conclusion. Just last month, I was shooting for five or six, but then 47 Seconds happened, and this story officially entered AU territory. It all worked out, though. I tried my best to combine some thoughts and to wrap everything up without compromising the integrity of my original ideas.

That being said, I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **Don't ruin my story with your logic!

* * *

><p>Two Monday mornings in a row, two counseling sessions, and no progress. None. Burke provides more questions than answers, and it's really getting on her last nerve. He's not making things any easier for her, and that's his responsibility, right? To help her. It's what he's paid to do—to help people. Part of the job description.<p>

But no. He's been just as much help to her as Lanie. He doesn't seem to sympathize much with her dilemma either. All questions, no answers.

He commends her on the progress made, at least, in her admission. Still, that's not really what she needs right now. What does she need?

Their current case is making absolutely no progress, and Castle gets kicked out by Gates for littering all over the homicide department's floor, for distracting his partner when she was trying to narrow down the list of suspects. She's just fortunate that Gates hadn't picked up the crumpled, little balls of paper surrounding her desk and read them for herself. She doesn't think her captain would have thought the 'I love you' notes that she was pelted with for a good half an hour were quite as charming as Castle did.

So, she gets home around six-thirty, ready to unwind after a frustrating day. When she gets to her front door, she looks down, pauses. On top of her paper rests a small notepad, spirals coming out of the top, visibly worn. She knows who left it there immediately—who else would it be from?—but what exactly it is, she doesn't know. She barely gets inside before the paper is discarded on the floor and the notepad is flipped open to the first page.

It's dated. April 20, 2009. Their first year together. One of their first cases.

It starts out as case notes mostly, sprinkled with quotes from her and lists of ridiculous suspect names from Ryan and Esposito. Crook, knucklehead, chucklehead, dirtbag. She comes across nearly a full page of notes commentating on her ass in a particular pair of jeans, and she has to laugh out of both amusement and mortification. It's fascinating, really, how much their partnership has changed since then.

And suddenly, the notes go from superficial to personal. Little things about the look in her eyes at a crime scene and big things, like details about her past and her mom. Things she doesn't even remember telling him.

Her personality goes from sassy to determined. Through his notations, she transforms from sexy hard-ass to extraordinary. It's strange for her to see herself through his eyes. Embarrassing, but also…humbling. Flattering, for sure. She really comes off as a superhero on the pages of the pad, and she's struck by it. Awed.

And then it just sort of stops. A random thought and then nothing. But she knows how the story ends-with a fight and their first long summer apart. It wouldn't be their last, far from it.

Is she supposed to go return it to him? Surely he'd want it back, his first Nikki Heat observations. She's in front of his door before she can even comprehend how she got there when her phone vibrates in her trench coat pocket. It's an incoming call. From the man himself.

"Castle?"

"Yeah, Kate, hi." He sounds nervous, apprehensive. "Listen, I…can you come over? I have something important that I need you to see." She laughs lightly, and it confuses him; she can tell from the tone of his voice. "Kate? Are you there?"

"Yeah, Castle. I'm here. Right here, in fact. Open the door."

There's a pause on the line and then dead silence. The front door swings open. He's breathless on the other side, hair falling in his eyes, but he looks somewhat pleased to see her. At least, she thinks he does. Why wouldn't he?

"Hey," he exhales.

"Hey, yourself. What's the matter?"

He runs his fingers through his hair anxiously. "Wha-what do you mean?"

"You look…" she gives him a once over, "…winded. Worried. So what's wrong? Is it Alexis? Is she okay?"

"Huh? Alexis? No, Alexis is fine. She's staying the night at a friend's house, actually. She's been so busy lately with all of her internships and her class that I'm just glad she's making some time to relax." He smiles fondly, speaking of his daughter, and something inside her blooms, swells. Love. No, she's not ready for that. Not yet. Right? "What brings you here tonight, Detective?"

She chuckles. "What do you mean? You called me."

"Yes, but no. You were already here when I called. Did you miss me?" He gives her a well-practiced leer, eyebrows dancing up and down, but there's still something not quite right in his eyes. Something dark and heavy, weighing him down.

"I came to, uh, return this actually. That is, if you want it back." She holds out the ringed pad with an outstretched arm, but he shakes his head, refuses.

"It's for you. To keep."

"You're sure?"

"Of course. You got through it already?" She nods, biting her lip timidly, and he grins. "What did you think?"

"It was…perfect." She can't think of a better way to describe it. Their history together, flawlessly captured in ink, open and genuine. "Thank you." And then, "But my jeans, Castle? Really?"

He guffaws loudly at that, leaning against the wall with a little twinkle in his solemn eyes. "Really. I thought about ripping that page out, but I just couldn't resist. You wouldn't happen to still have them would you? The jeans?"

"Why? You want to borrow them?"

"Mmm, no. I'm more interested in what's inside the jeans." An awkward pause flourishes between them, and he considers his words. "Not that I meant…that came out wrong. I'm more interested in the personinside the jeans, Kate. The _person_."

"Always knew you wanted to get inside my pants, Castle." The words are scolding, but her tone is one of amusement.

"Jesus, Kate. Not what I meant. Although…" He trails off, obviously mind elsewhere, and her face flushes, hot and red. "Oh, but don't let that discourage you from coming in. I do have something I want you to see. I need you to see."

It's at that moment Kate realizes that she's still standing in the hallway, and he's still resting on the doorframe. He leans back a little, arm extended to welcome her in, and she passes him. His nervousness is evidently contagious because she feels her legs start to tremor in anticipation. Her knees lock in place to stop the quakes. He notices her hesitance right away.

"Can't show you in here. It's in my office." He leads her to the office door and then closes it behind them. "Just in case my mother comes in," he explains, "You'd prefer the privacy, I think."

"Castle…"

His sobers from his earlier jumpiness, mouth setting into a grim, hard line. "You're going to yell at me, Kate, maybe scream. But you can't leave until you let me explain everything."

He's scaring her now. "Rick, please, what is this about?"

He disregards her question, continues, "You'll probably hate me. But I can't keep this a secret anymore; it's eating me alive. And it's not fair to you, Kate. But there's just one thing I'm going to do first if you let me. But you might not like it."

She looks at him, face skewed in horror. "What, Castle? What is it?"

He leans toward her slowly, hand resting on her cheek, eyes locked onto hers, breath whispering just inches from her face. She focuses on his lips as he nears, though, eyes glazing over. Not from fear, no. Just a tilt of the neck, just a nod of her head. It would be so easy. She wants to. God, she wants to. His nose slides past hers, resting there for a moment, eyelids closing. His lashes glance her cheeks.

"I'm going to kiss you."

* * *

><p>Heat. Heat surrounds him.<p>

She's sitting on his desk, legs wrapped around his back, and he stands between them. Her hands are threaded through his hair, and his are under her shirt, expanded around her waist. She kisses him long and hard and ferocious. Her tongue soothes his lip after her teeth bite down with a little too much enthusiasm, and she grinds her hips into his waist with abandon, and everything is getting way too hot way too fast.

"Kate," he breathes between kisses. "Beckett, we have to…" His thoughts get jumbled in his head as her fingers trail up his spine beneath the cotton of his button-down. "God, Kate, I love you, but we need to stop. I just have to show you-"

She groans when he tries to pull away from the clutch of her thighs, tugs him closer, hands working nimbly on his shirt, pressing open mouth kisses to his chest as it's revealed button by button, tongue swirling. She tugs away for a moment, but it's only to protest.

"No. I don't care. I don't want to know. I just want you, Rick. Just you."

He knows he has act now before he can no longer find the resolve to stop, but it's so difficult when she's doing the things that she's doing. Oh, and so eagerly. One of her hands flutters down to the button of his dark jeans, but he grabs her wrist before she can slide it through, catching her off guard, giving him the perfect opportunity to extract himself from the hold of her legs.

She's panting furiously, glaring at him through a thick haze of arousal, and he almost has to dive back in right then and there. No, focus. Not on her swollen lips or her eyes or her heaving chest. No, definitely not any of those things. Those thoughts aren't helping _at_ _all_. Focus on the truth.

"Kate, it's about your mother." Yes, that does it. The mood is killed instantly, but it's all for the greater good. He finds the remote to his makeshift murder board and hands it to her. "Turn it on."

She looks upset, betrayed, but also disbelieving. "No, Castle. _No_."

"I'm sorry," is all he can offer. She presses the button on the device and the board comes to life. Her own face reflects back. "You have to tap it." She doesn't move, so he does it for her and the case expands.

"When?" Her voice is hard, and her face is livid. He can't blame her.

"Don't leave until I explain everything." She vacillates, but then gives a curt, reluctant nod. "Right after you came back to the precinct. In the fall. After the shooting." She stiffens at his confession. "A man contacted me right after our first case back together. The only name he gave me was Smith, but I'm sure it's just an alias. Montgomery…he sent Smith some files right before he died. They were about the case, Kate. But he didn't give me any information right away, just told me to try to convince you to stop digging into your mother's case. He said he could keep you safe and that whoever's orchestrating everything wouldn't…" his voice wavers, "…that the Dragon wouldn't send an assassin after you again. But only if you stopped."

"So you asked me to take a break."

"Yes."

"And he didn't give you any new information right away?" her voice stresses the last two words, and he just nods. She changes her approach. "Why is the mayor on there? Is he involved?"

"I don't know if he's involved," he answers honestly. "I don't think so. Not exactly. But Smith contacted me again in November, during the Weldon case. He told me it was an important one to solve, told me we had to clear the mayor's name. Because…" She's not going to like this. "Because if he was found guilty, and if I was kicked out of the precinct, there wouldn't be anyone there to keep tabs on you. To protect you."

"_Protect_ me?" she spits out. "Castle, I can protect myself."

"I-I know you can. But not from this, Kate. This case will get you killed. I couldn't just let you run headfirst into danger. So I kept it a secret. I asked you to back off. I knew I couldn't hide it forever, but I didn't know what else to do."

"But you've been investigating."

"Not actively. I don't have the resources for that. Just…theorizing a little. Piecing bits together."

"And you're telling me this now. Why?"

"Seemed like as good a time as any. Like I said, it wasn't fair to you. And because…I love you. You know that."

She picks her jacket up off the floor-he doesn't even recall taking it off in the fog of lust and haste-and he's worried that she's going to bolt. Not that he wouldn't deserve it. But no, she's not running yet. Instead, she turns off the board, pockets the remote, and sets her jacket down on his desk.

"You had _no_ right to do this, Castle, and you're going to stop. Until the case comes up again, you're going to stop looking around. And you're going to tell me if Smith ever contacts you again. When he does. Right away." It's not up for question. It's a string of commands.

"You know I can turn it on manually, right?"

"But you won't."

"Okay," he agrees. "I won't." But then, "Kate, if I can make progress and keep you safe, why not?"

She's determined, resolute. "Because I do."

"You do what?"

She looks at him as if he's the stupidest man who ever crossed her path, but then her eyes soften. She speaks in a whisper, "I do. Love you."

He freezes, slack-jawed and speechless. Probably looks like a deer in the headlights. But that doesn't matter. Nothing else matters because right now, she loves him. Oh God, she _loves_ him.

"_Kate_."

"I'm angry, Castle. Pissed. But I understand why you did what you did. I understand your motives, misguided as they might be. But it's hard to be angry with you when another part of me just wants to drag you into your bedroom and to have my wicked way with you."

No _way_. She did _not_ just say that. But, oh, she totally _did_. "_Yeah_?"

She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes and gives a little, agonized moan. "Why did you have to kiss me?"

"It was just a kiss. Or, well, it was supposed to be." He smirks at her. "Someone got a little carried away."

"_Ugh_." She swats at his shoulder. "Not helping. I'm still mad at you."

"But you love me."

She blows out a long puff of air. "I said that?"

He bites back a laugh. "You most certainly did. No take backs."

"Wasn't planning on it. Just surprised myself a bit." She elaborates, "In these past few weeks, I talked to my therapist and to Lanie, and I just wanted to deny everything. I didn't think I was ready."

"And now?"

"If it means losing you, I never want to solve my mom's case, Rick. I want to put it in a box, to lock it up and keep it there forever. It doesn't mean I'll be forgetting her," she seems to say it as much to herself as she does to him, "It doesn't mean I'll be letting her down. It just means I'll be trying to live. Finally living. _For_ her."

"She'd be proud of you, Kate." Her eyes well up with unshed tears. "I'm sure she _is_ proud of you, wherever she is now. But you don't have to make any big decisions right away. Think about it. I don't want you to push yourself into anything you're not ready to do._ I _don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for." Oh, right. "That's not what this was about, Kate. You know that right? All of this."

She swallows past the lump in her throat to answer. "I know, Castle."

But does she? "I love you. I wanted you to know that. I wanted to convince you that what we have is real. But if you need time…"

"I love you too. I'm ready to come to term with that much." She chuckles, and then sobers. "But I should probably be going."

"You could stay," he tries not to sound so desperate. "You know, the guest room is open. Or you could take my room if you want. Not to brag, but my bed is _awesome_. And then I'd take the guest room or the couch, maybe. I'm feeling a little restless, actually. Might stay up a little and try to get some writing done. Gina's been sending me nasty voicemails about the rough draft of _Frozen Heat_ being due-"

"_Castle_," she laughs, "Relax."

"Or," he starts, "We could, uh, go in there, and you could show me some of those wicked things you mentioned."

"I'm angry with you. And I'm not going to say I don't hate you at all right now because I'd be lying."

"Oh, right. Of course. I understand." He deflates a bit. "There's something I want to say right now, but it's not exactly appropriate and will probably just irritate you more, so I'll refrain."

She rolls her eyes. "Go ahead. Before all that bottled up innuendo gives you an ulcer."

"Yeah?" She nods in consent. "Okay. Well. I was just going to say: angry sex could work for us."

She just about chokes on her own saliva. "And there it is."

"Tell me you haven't thought about." She reddens, the scarlet wave coloring her cheeks and crawling up her chest. "I, for one, can't _stop _thinking about it."

His partner growls. "Don't make me shoot you."

He has to be serious now. He has to know. His hand reaches for hers, grabs it tight. "We'll be okay, though?"

Kate smiles at him, gentle. "Just gotta find the silver lining. If you can make do turning lemons into lemonade, then I can too, right?"

"I love you." He loves her. More than anything or anyone with the exception of Alexis, of course, he loves her. She knows it. She feels the same way, and he doesn't think he'll _ever_ get over that. But does she truly understand? He can barely comprehend the depth of his own feelings, the complexity.

"You don't have to keep trying to convince me, you know."

"I can't help it," he whines. "You make me needy."

Kate muffles a snicker with her one hand and squeezes his own with the other, reassuring.

"We'll be okay."

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><p>That's all, folks. If you feel so compelled, press that little review button, and let me know what you thought. And as always, thank you for reading. It's been a wonderful little ride. I'm looking forward to future adventures with you all. :)<p> 


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